


The World Goes Blind

by xenospider



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Noir, Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Detective Noir, First Person Narrative, Gray Morality, Marvel Noir - Freeform, Multi, Noir Slang, Spider-Man Noir - Freeform, detective mystery, past Peter Parker/Felicia Hardy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:16:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenospider/pseuds/xenospider
Summary: Peter Parker, once a reporter for the Daily Bugle, is now working as a Private Investigator. It pays the bills, barely. One day a mysterious stranger walks through his door with a job offer and a lot of money. Wade Wilson, a scarred veteran with a questionable past (and a sexy waistline), needs help finding a friend of his. It all goes wrong when that friend ends up dead, and Wilson is implicated. Can Peter trust him, or are things getting too personal?(I don't like first person POV, and I wrote a first person POV fic. It just suits the noir genre better, so please give it a chance if you're like me and usually flinch hard away from first person. :3c )





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set a few years after "Spider-Man Noir: Eyes Without A Face", in the late 40's or so, and incorporates all of that canon into its history. (Minus the Spider-Verse stuff. Pretend Peter never left this universe.) Peter is in his early 30's.
> 
> Deadpool "Noir" doesn't actually exist in the comics. It's Deadpool _Pulp_ , and it's set in the late 50's, so I have constructed a new backstory for him so that the time frames actually line up. You'll find out what it is as you read the fic.
> 
> Artwork and aesthetic board for this fic were created by @[notchronicle24](https://notchronicle24.tumblr.com/), and embedded with explicit permission.
> 
> (Fic will be posted two chapters at a time. Two today, and two tomorrow. ❤️ )

* * *

  
Aesthetic Board by @[notchronicle24](https://notchronicle24.tumblr.com/)

* * *

It was on one of those awful days, the kind that make you wanna stay in with a bottle of hooch and a good book, where rent’s due and you ain’t got the money for it, that he breezed into my office without an appointment. I knew the moment I laid eyes on him that he was trouble.

Yeah, rent was due, and my last good suit went up in smoke when the dry cleaner down the street got hit by the local protection racket’s enforcers. Spider-Man—me—had been in time to save the owner’s life, but not her business. My clothes, neither.

I felt bad for Mrs. Camacho. The mob’s boys couldn’t’ve struck her a harder blow. What with her husband murdered, and a bad job for a daughter who skipped out with some tramp. She was left with nothing, and there I was feeling sorry for myself because wearing a grimy old suit left me looking and feeling like a schmuck.

Then there was the note from Felicia Hardy. I’d come in after helping Mrs. Camacho and found it sitting on my desk like I’d left it there myself. Right in middle of my blotter, on purple stationery. She’d left a lipstick kiss on the back of the envelope over the seal. It smelled like her perfume. Made me think of wet kisses, hot flesh, and claw marks on my back.

She’d made her feelings clear a long time ago. I’d moved on. Not to anyone else, but to my work. Bills gotta get paid, aunt’s gotta get taken care of. Especially with how much of her own money she spent at the welfare center she ran. Cared more about helping people than her own health, sometimes.

I tried to send some to Robbie’s family too, sometimes. My fault for being too slow, what happened to him. My fault for not taking him seriously when he warned me about Octavius.

Now Felicia was sending me notes. Even though we weren’t working the same side of the street anymore. I’d tucked it into my drawer without opening it. Hoping it would disappear on its own, maybe, I don’t know. It brought back memories all the old failures, the old disappointments. Made me think of Ben Urich: newshawk, friend, mentor, addict. Made me remember there’s a thin line we tread between surviving and selling out.

All those things were on my mind, keeping me too distracted to even pay attention to the snaps from my last job. Some bozo was cheating on his wife and she’d hired me to catch him out.

Scandalous. Scintillating.

Surviving was food on the table. Selling out was this shit I was doing instead of going back to the Bugle and trying to get my job back.

Then in walked this fella. Trouble wrapped in red and black. Black shirt and slacks, red vest and tie, leather coat slung over one arm, black gloves, black hat, and what looked like a red and black luchador’s mask. Mexican guy?

My danger sense didn’t go off when he shut the door behind him. He wasn’t directly a threat to me, but he carried himself like a man who knew how to tangle, and he still could’a had a gun on him.

I told him I was busy, that he needed to make an appointment with my secretary. He looked at me like I was crazy.

It was a joke. I didn’t have a secretary.

He pulled off his hat and tossed it with his coat onto a nearby chair, ignoring my request that he leave. He stepped forward and leaned heavy over my desk, scattering my mess.

“Please, please mister detective, I _need_ your help! Don’t turn me away!”

* * *

  
Artwork by @[notchronicle24](https://notchronicle24.tumblr.com/)

* * *

Convincingly desperate. He didn’t _sound_ Mexican. What was this guy’s grift?

His muscular arms strained against the fabric of his shirt, and his vest hugged his trim waist in the most flattering way. He wasn’t wearing cologne, but up close I could still smell him. Freshly washed, like he’d cleaned up for this meeting; his spicy masculine scent blending with the soap he’d used, and under that… a hint of blood.

I knew I’d have to be careful with this mugg, for reasons _other_ than his beautifully sculpted body.

I thought of Felicia. I thought of Mary Jane. I thought of how much trouble it was to get personal with clients.

He was looking at the half naked photos of the cheating husband and his floozy. I gathered them up and slapped them facedown on my desk. Tried to get rid of him again.

“I’m busy.”

“You selling copies of those?”

He wasn’t discouraged.

“No. Pervert.”

“Look, I’ve got a job for you that’s more important than catching some chump with his pants down. Pays better, too.”

Money. Of course it would come to that. No matter how much my common sense told me _no_ , money would talk.

Money always talked.

“Fine, I’m listening.”

His face lit up like a puppy with a new toy.

——

Wade Wilson, that was his name. I could appreciate the alliteration. _Wade Wilson_.

_Peter Parker_.

In his deep, husky, all-too-sexy voice he told me his story. I listened.

Short side of it was that he was Canadian, not Mexican. I didn’t know what the hell the mask was about, in that case. Got involved in some military operations overseas through the OSS until they turned into the CIA, worked with them for a few years. There was some kinda accident, left him mangled and scarred. A squad buddy of his, Robert Dobalina, saved his life. They’d been friends ever since, and now Bobby was missing.

Wade’s face got cloudy. An amazing feat, through the mask and all, which he pulled off his head a moment later. I saw what the accident had done to him. Painful-looking scars all over his face, puckered and red in spots, no eyebrows, no hair. I couldn’t tell if he shaved his head or if his injuries had done it to him. The only thing not ruined about his face were his eyes; piercing blue, they met mine, then fell to the floor.

His demeanor was different with the mask off. Less of a hard number, more vulnerable. Was it a ploy for sympathy? But he was just showing me what his friend meant to him, what he’d helped him to survive.

I knew about survival. Thought of some of the freaks I’ve seen in my day, but Wade wasn’t a freak. He was still handsome. High, well-defined cheekbones, and a strong sharp jaw. He hadn’t mentioned a girl in his story. Were the janes all scared off by his face? That’d be a shame, what with the rest of his assets.

I leaned back in my chair, and to distract myself from that thought I took a drink of my coffee. It was cold from sitting too long. I made a face.

“When did he go missing?”

“Two days ago.”

“You didn’t go to the cops?”

Wade looked shifty. I hoped he had a good followup to that question. I didn’t have time for quibbling.

“They just think he skipped town. He owes the mob money.”

I understood what he didn’t say. The cops had bigger fish to fry, and a small time guy like Wade’s friend wouldn’t be worth their effort if he owed the big boys money. They wouldn’t go near the issue.

He pulled his mask back on, and even though I didn’t blame him I still regretted it. I kinda liked lookin’ at his face.

“You want me to find him before anyone else does, is that it?”

“Yes, _please_ mister Parker, I couldn’t stand it if he was hurt!”

He folded his hands together, kneeling by my desk with his elbows on it. Begging. I’d never seen a big guy like him get on his knees and beg before. Certainly not to _me_. It took me a minute to dust the cobwebs outta my brain.

“I’d love to help, but I’ve got other clients and bills to pay.”

Well. I had bills, anyway.

He told me how much he could pay me. It was a better rate than I’d gotten from any other client in the past. Could he be serious? It felt like a con. He was ex military, how did he have that kind of scratch?

But I did have bills to pay, this guy needed my help—or his friend did, anyway—and he was already pulling cash out of his wallet to dump right down in front of me. Of course I would say yes.

——

I stood on a street corner, collar turned against the cold and damp, staring across at Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children. Sister Margaret’s was anything but sisterly. Previously a school for the edification of young girls, it had run out of funds and closed down when the Depression hit. Something to do with money owed and bad debts.

It was always bad debts. There was nothing unstained in this city.

It had been bought at auction and converted into a speakeasy. Then Prohibition ended, and now they could sell alcohol openly. Problem was, they’d gotten into the lucrative habit of doing dirty deals in the back rooms. The booze might be legal now, but not everything that happened there was on the up and up.

I’d been in there a time or two when I’d been with the Bugle, before things had changed and I’d become a private dick. I knew they served a different sort of freelancer than I was. Two sides of a coin, or two bullets from the same gun? People here got paid to put bodies and secrets in the ground; I got paid to dig ‘em up.

Tough guys were more likely to talk to someone who wasn’t with the cops, but not by much. I’d had to take work from some of them in the past to secure my reputation as someone they could talk to, and the only thing that cured the resulting itch under my skin was knowing I could ruin their day later.

So what if the Spider-Man paid the worst of these guys a visit after they talked to Peter Parker? There was nothing to tie him to me directly. He ruined a _lot_ of tough guys’ days.

I hated the thick haze of smoke filling the air. The tired and suspicious eyes turning my way. The stink of the underworld. But Sister Margaret’s was where Wade told me he’d last seen Bobby.

Unfortunately for me, nobody was in the mood to talk to a snooper, even a free agent like myself. That in itself could mean nothing, or it could mean everything. It depended on a hell of a lot of factors that I didn’t know, and was trying to find out. In any case, nobody was feeling charitable and I decided I’d better take a powder before they got restless.

From there, I changed my rags to patrol as Spider-Man and take this investigation in another direction. I didn’t want to get caught where I shouldn’t be as Peter Parker, but Spider-Man could go anywhere and get out of it if anyone got wise to my activities.

Wilson and I were going to Bobby’s apartment together the next day, but I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to get a peek by myself, on my own terms, without someone distracting me.

Bobby’s place was over in Hell’s Kitchen. It was near where Wade himself lived, which was one of the roughest neighborhoods around. That fact alone got me started feeling suspicious about this whole business. How could Wilson afford to pay me what he was paying me when he couldn’t afford to live anywhere better? Was it a personal preference, and nothing to do with money? Was Dobalina that important to him?

Mostly I hoped I wasn’t being paid in dirty money. Maybe Wilson was on the up and up, and he had just cracked open his piggy bank to scrape the cash together.

Maybe I was lying to myself because my rent was late and my ice box was empty.

I stuck to the wall outside the apartment and crawled over the brick to Dobalina’s window. Nothing but darkness inside. As if I expected anything else; Wilson had told me that Bobby lived alone. I was going to check his mail and all the common hidey holes that people tended to stash things and see if there were any clues to where he’d gone.

I pulled the window open with my sticky spider fingers, and kept to the ceiling while I took a look around. Still quiet. It wasn’t hard to find his old mail. It was there in a pile on a small round table in his pathetic excuse for a kitchen, along with food trash.

The place was filthy. I could hear roaches skittering around in the darkness. I could smell the rotten food from the icebox and the waste bin. If there were any more clear evidence needed that nobody was home, I wouldn’t know what it was.

Dropping to the floor, I started to shuffle through his correspondence. Nothing jumped out at me as being significant. It was entirely possible this was going to be another dead end, and then I’d have to question Wilson further on the matter.

_Where are your secrets, Bobby?_

I moved into the bedroom. Unlike the kitchen, it wasn’t just filthy like a slob lived there, it was chaos. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The closet was a mess. It looked like the guy had left town in a big hurry. Or someone had tossed the place looking for something.

There weren’t any pictures on the wall, but there was an upside-down frame on the nightstand. I picked it up. It was a photograph of a man and a woman at Coney Island. When I went to put it back the way I found it, I saw the corner of another photo stuck out of the back of the frame. Hiding behind the couple at the fair.

It was of three men in military gear. One of them was the man from the other picture. I assumed this was Bobby. Who were the other guys? The tall blonde man stuck out to me. There was something familiar about the face, but the photo was too old and grainy to pick out any details.

The only other thing in the bedroom that might be interesting was a shelf of statues on the wall opposite the window. They were from different world cultures. One of them reminded me of the African statue that had spawned the spiders that had given me my powers. I wondered if “Corporal” Dobalina had brought those back to New York legally. Probably not.

If he had debts to take care of, why hadn’t he sold those already? Unless… were they fake?

I was getting ready to inspect one on the end when I heard a noise at the front door. I leaped to the ceiling to hide without half a thought, and climbed back through the kitchen to tuck myself against the wall above the apartment entrance. Whoever was coming in wouldn’t look straight up the moment they entered, and I knew how to avoid notice when I needed to.

It wasn’t long before the other intruder got in, but they obviously weren’t using a key. I heard the picks scraping around in the lock until they got it jimmied. Whoever this was, their being there would help me with clues to where Bobby had gone. Anyone sneaking in would have to know something.

To my surprise, the person who came through the door was Wade. I recognized the top of his mask and the shape of his muscular bulk under his coat. What was he doing there? Why was he sneaking around Bobby’s place after hiring _me_ to find him? After we’d arranged to come here tomorrow?

This was bad. Had I been played for a fool? It was Wade who’d said I should check Sister Margaret’s first. Maybe he’d just wanted to get me out of the way so he could take care of something that he didn’t want me knowing about.

I realized that there was more to the whole situation than I knew about. Visiting Bobby’s apartment had given me more questions than answers.

Wade didn’t turn on a light. He knew exactly where he was going, and there was enough glow from streetlights outside to walk around without bumping into anything too bad. I followed him, sticking to the deep shadows against the ceiling. He went straight for the shelf of statues and grabbed one from the middle. He knew exactly what he was looking for. It was a statue of a man in robes with a long wavy beard, hands clasped in front of him. Looked Mesopotamian, like representations of King Hammurabi I’d seen in a history book somewhere.

The Code of Hammurabi seemed to suit Wade Wilson somehow. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.

Greeting the object as if it were an old friend, Wade slipped it into an inside pocket of his coat, patted it flat, and left. All without seeing or hearing me.

Quiet as a spider.

I knew I had to do some digging on Wade himself before the whole thing got hashed up, so I swung over to Captain Stacy’s clubhouse to see what I could find. Stacy was a good man, and a good cop. He did his job, and he let me do mine.

Both of them. He’d tumbled to the fact that I was Spider-Man a couple years earlier, but hadn’t tried to toss me in the cooler. He knew this city was crooked and needed someone who could work without worrying about red tape or politics. Someone who could work outside the law when the law’s hands were tied. That was me.

I found him in his office. When I told him what I was there for, he sent Miss Cooper off to records while I sat against the corner of the ceiling out of sight. He knew the name Wade Wilson already, and that wasn’t a good sign.

He took a phone call while we waited. I felt itchy, restless. Punching things was always the easiest way to solve a problem, in my experience. Taking a beating was the only kind of lesson that most hoods understood. Sniffing out clues instead of putting the screws on toughies for answers was something I was still getting used to.

Finally Cooper came back, and left a file on Stacy’s desk. Once she was gone, he drummed his fingers on it and looked up at me. The noise made the twitching in my head worse.

I dropped to the floor and leaned my hands on his desk. “All right, Stacy, what’s the score? I ain’t gonna be played by some grifter, if that’s what’s going on.”

Stacy pressed one finger into the file and pushed it across his desk at me. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, jerking his chin. “Take this. Give it a dust. We got nothing on Wilson that we can collar him for, but there’s plenty of suspicion. He’s bad news.”

I took the file and headed back to my place to chew it over.

What I read didn’t make me happy.

——


	2. Chapter Two

* * *

I was washing my clothes in the sink in my jockeys the next morning when I heard the news on my police radio. They’d found a body in Central Park. Identification in the number’s wallet said it was Robert Dobalina. Half an hour later, they put out a reader out for Wilson. He was their prime suspect.

Well, at least the guy had paid me already.

In middle of hanging my clothes up to dry, there was a frantic banging on my door. I didn’t get interrupted that early very often. I had my business hours printed right on my damn door, and if it wasn’t some kind of serious emergency I was gonna get burned up real quick.

I threw a robe on and went to see who was bothering me. When I cracked the door, I was greeted with the masked face of Wade Wilson. Because who else would it be?

“Parker! Parker, you gotta help me. The cops are lookin’ to drop the arm on me. They think I killed Bobby. I need a place to lay low.”

“Look, Wilson, you ain’t payin’ me enough for that.”

“Please, Parker. I’ll pay you double!”

I didn’t believe him. Told him so, but his begging got out of hand. If he kept on like that, he was going to wake up the neighbors. So I told him I’d let him in. Conditionally. Then I locked and bolted the door behind him, and put up the sign that said I wasn’t taking any new business that day.

“Someone’s tryin’ to hang a frame on me.”

Wilson was looking around the space as if he just realized that my office was also my apartment. Poking around my laundry, which was drying on the line stretched across the main room. I swatted his hand away.

“Keep your flippers off my stuff. And give me one good reason why I should believe you.”

Wilson wrung his hands and paced across the floor. I watched him like a hawk.

“I didn’t _do_ it. Bobby was a friend o’ mine, I hired you to find him. Why would I hire you if I bopped him?”

“Lookin’ for an alibi, maybe. You better talk fast, Jack, or push off quick.” I had the file that Stacy had given me, and I shoved it at him. “You’re dirty.”

“Dirty minded, maybe.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Look, Parker, who _doesn’t_ have a past?”

He was trying to pull one over on me, I was sure. “You’re a dropper and a suspected arms dealer. You’re implicated in several rackets over in Philly. And you pinched something from Bobby’s apartment.”

I’d grabbed my pistol from a drawer in my desk when I took the file. I rushed him and shoved it into his chest. His well-muscled chest.

Not a great line of thinking when I was trying to grill the guy.

“How do I know you didn’t have reason to kill him, huh?” I poked him again. “You take me for a rube?”

Wilson held up his hands. Trying to look non-threatening, I guessed. I wasn’t going to let my guard down. I'd known a lot of bad guys in my time. Some of them had hurt good friends of mine. Threatened others. 

“No! No, whoever killed Bobby is after me too. Wait a minute—how do you know I—?”

“ _Why?_ ” I growled and put the gun in his face. “I won’t work with someone who’s lying to me, so you’d better start talkin’!”

“Okay okay! It’s because of my accident!”

“What?”

“Y’know, when I got the pizza face?”

“What the hell does that have to do with Bobby Dobalina’s murder?”

I saw him swallow. I didn’t know him well enough to read his reactions, and he still wore that mask, so I couldn’t guess what he was thinking. Except that he was nervous.

“If you don't give it to me straight you better make tracks quick, Wilson.”

“I think if I gave it to you at all, it would be the opposite of straight.”

“ _No more games._ ” This guy was either still trying to play me, or he was nuts. I couldn't afford to waste too much more time figuring out which it was. 

“Sorry, it's the noir vernacular, it--never mind. I'll tell you about me and Bobby.”

He spoke, and I listened. At first his story sounded like complete bunk, but as he kept talking it made more sense.

The scars on his body were from an accident, but it hadn't been a fire. He'd been in a black ops detail deep in the Middle East to intercept an enemy convoy. They were transporting something in a tanker truck. The tank exploded during the attack, and he'd been covered in the stuff, but he had lived. Wasn't supposed to, apparently. So they did tests. Experimental treatments. 

Illegal shit, he told me. They weren't supposed to be there in the first place, but since when does that stop the feds? And everything from before the accident, he couldn't remember so well. Messed him up in the head.

That, I could believe. His mood seemed to swing around more than a dame on the dance floor. He interrupted himself and got distracted more than any man I'd ever met.

But damn, I loved his voice. It rumbled in my head like a locomotive, but was soft and fuzzy like crushed velvet. Despite the heavy subject matter, I could listen to him all day. 

Then he gave me a shock. 

“The so-called experimental ‘treatments’ they gave me had an interestin’ side effect.” He was rolling up his sleeve, exposing his scarred and discolored skin. Before I could ask him what he was doing, he had a knife and made a deep into his arm like he was slicing up a ham. 

I shouted at him. What the hell was he doing?! But he just grinned at me, and I stared as the wound started to close right in front of my damn eyes. I'd seen crazy things, I'd seen awful things, but I'd never seen that before. 

“Jesus Christ.”

The black ops guys liked this ability of his. Sent him on solo missions under the codename Deadpool. All the while he was digging up dirt on them in case they tried to screw him over. Which eventually they did, when he refused to kill an Iranian lord’s whole family. He went off the reservation, but kept the dirt on his superiors to ensure his freedom. Hid it where they couldn't get at it.

“The statue,” I said. 

He grinned under his mask. “You're one smart guy, Parker. Yeah, it's a fake. I hid the evidence in there and gave it to Bobby for safekeeping. Only he didn't keep it so safe. I didn't know he had the shylocks after him.”

He sighed, big and deep. Pulled off his mask and hung his hands between his knees. “He was always an idiot. So, yeah, I went back to get the dingus as soon as I could.”

I leaned back in my chair to think. He'd gotten me involved, whether I wanted it or not. But this business had to go deeper than one schmuck’s bad debts. I still didn't know if I could fully believe everything Wade told me, or if he was still leaving things out.

“Who exactly is after you?”

“Well, I ain't exactly squeaky clean. You know. You did your _sniffing_.” He gestured to the file, sitting on my desk now. He looked put off by the fact that I had it. What did he expect? That I’d just take everything he said at face value when half of it was so sketchy?

“I used to be into a lot of shit. I did a lot of bad jobs I ain't proud of. I've got plenty of enemies who'd like to take me out, one way or another.”

I didn't have a good response to that, so I stood up and paced. Got out a bottle and poured myself a glass of whiskey. I offered him one to shut him up while I did my thinking, since he was still bumping his gums. I liked his voice, but it was hard to rub two thoughts together while he went on about underwear and greaser food.

What the hell were “tighty whiteys”, anyway?

In the meantime, I had other problems. Sometime during the conversation I’d decided to help Wade hide from the police. I’d made this decision without realizing it at first. Maybe it was the money he was offering. Maybe it was knowledge of what he'd been through, how the government used him and pushed him down a dark path he was struggling to come back from.

Or maybe it was the look on his bare face as he twisted his mask around in his hands, staring at the floor and not looking at me. The guy had plenty of demons haunting him, that much was obvious for any moron to see. And I wasn't a moron. 

Besides, if I kept him near me it'd be easier to catch him up if he tried any funny business. 

All right, I told him. He grinned like I’d given him a present. He opened his mouth to say something, but I stopped him. One condition, I told him. He had to sleep on the couch.

And if he caused any trouble, he’d be out on his ass. 

——

Sleep wasn't agreeing with me. Wade's talk about medical experiments had opened up awful memories. Octavius and what he did to those people, to Robbie. Mysterio and his victims. So many freaks and monsters in this town, doing monstrous things to the innocent. 

Wade wasn't innocent, but he didn't deserve what they'd done to him. The good thing for him was he didn't remember most of it. My mind, however, filled in the gaps while I tried to sleep. Filling my head with blood and screams. The nightmares hadn’t been that bad in years, and I resented every minute of it.

Morning came too soon after that. My eyes were full of grit, and my head felt like it was stuffed with ceiling insulation. For a moment I forgot I wasn’t the only one in the apartment, until there was a voice coming in from the other room. I threw on my robe and left my tiny bedroom to see what was going on.

Wade was making breakfast. I never ate breakfast, and there he was, standing in my kitchen, making breakfast. The smell of pancakes and bacon filled the air. Was there even any bacon in the fridge?

Two problems. Wade had left to buy food. And he was wearing nothing but an apron and a jock strap.

“Parker! You're up!”

My head was too addled with sleep to think straight, and I'd only gotten about three hours of it. Some part of me was awake, though, as I tried not to stare at his ass. Didn’t do a good job of it. Told myself it was just the usual “morning condition”.

Was always good at lying to myself.

I turned away and slumped into a chair at my rickety breakfast table. “Put some fucking clothes on, Wilson.”

“Mmm, rough night? One two many whiskeys?” He grinned at me. Flipped a pancake like it was the easiest thing in the world. My mouth was watering. 

“No. One too many unwelcome guests.”

“You've got someone else hidden here too?”

Ha ha. Funny guy. I hoped my glare was enough to let him know what I thought of that.

Breakfast was good, I had to admit to myself. Though I hated to do it. The man could cook. Well, he could cook pancakes and bacon. I doubted he was the type of fella who had the patience for a good lasagna. Not like my aunt could make.

“I hope your girl don't mind me crashing here.” Wade spoke with a mouthful of food. Bad manners. Predictable. At least I’d succeeded in making him get dressed before sitting down to eat, even if his clothes were all mussed from being tossed on the floor.

But I didn't know what he was talking about. “Not that it's any of your damn business, but I ain't got a girl.”

Wade looked surprised. “Oh? Well, that’s funny, I didn't take you for the purple stationery and lipstick type.”

He'd seen Felicia’s letter.

“You been snooping through my things?”

“Calm down Mac, it was sitting right there in the open.”

I must've left it out after the last time I tried to open it. Just hadn’t been able to bring myself to read it. Now that Wilson had had his paws all over it, I felt like I had to. Just to reclaim it somehow.

“ _You_ can wash up,” I said as I got up. It was the least he could do for the inconvenience of invading my personal space.

And the inconvenience of how he looked too damn good in that vest.

The handsome fool just grinned and pulled his mask on. Why he bothered wearing it anymore, I had no idea. I already knew what he looked like underneath. Maybe it was like a security blanket.

“Sure thing, Pete!”

I knew I was muttering to myself when I opened Felicia’s letter, but I didn’t care. Then I started reading, and felt the hair rise on the back of my neck. This letter had shown up before Wade had ever darkened my door. Two lines stuck out at me, and I read them over and over.

_I know we have our differences, and they’re huge ones, but I want you to come to the Cat on the fourteenth. Make sure you bring your new “friend”, too._

When I looked up, Wilson was standing right in front of me. I narrowed my eyes. Felicia had known he was coming before I did. “Who exactly referred you to me?”

He shrugged and turned away to poke at my framed Pulitzer on the wall. The one good thing to come out of my stint as a journalist before it’d all gone to the dogs. “Y’know. You’re known to people, Pete. Got a reputation for being a straight up guy. You get the job done.”

Usually, I thought. 

“If I'm gonna get this job done for you, you better not slip off to go buy bacon again.”

“Hey, scout’s honor, I didn't!” He held up three fingers. “I paid a kid down the hall to do it.”

Great. Now he was turning the neighbors into accomplices. I smacked a hand over my face. “Just don't do it again.”

I didn't believe he'd ever been a boy scout. And if he had, he’d sure as hell already broken the boy scout oath, but I was going to ignore that comment. I had other concerns. “Do you know a gal named Felicia Hardy?”

“Can’t say as I do.”

“She owns a joint called the Black Cat. It’s a place for highbinders and hoods alike. We’re going to pay a visit tonight.” It was a good thing I hadn’t waited any longer to open the letter.

“‘We’?”

“You heard me. But it ain’t no hash house. You’ve gotta dress nice to show your face in a place like that.”

“Parker, I ain’t got but the clothes on my back.”

“So then pay your new buddy down the hall to go pick something up for you.”

“What about staying hidden? You can’t tell me there won’t be elephant ears at this event of yours.”

He had a point. The police might be scoping out the place, but I’d already thought of that. “Look, Wilson, the cops already know you hired me. I’m surprised the good captain hasn’t already rung me up asking if I know where you are. I guarantee you they’ll be lookin’ for you here by this evening. Best bet is to stay with me, hide your face in public, and stay mobile.”

“I mean, if you’re sure about it.”

“And you gotta give me the statue.”

“Okay, now I don’t like this plan.”

I argued with him. If someone was after him, that statue was leverage, and he’d need to keep that leverage safe. If the cops caught up to him, I couldn’t lie to help him, but I could use my good relationship with Stacy to convince him to give me more time to figure out who was pulling the frame job. Wilson didn’t want to spend _any_ time on ice, but I pointed out that it’d be his own fault if he did, with a record like his.

I didn’t tell him that Spider-Man could guard him if he got locked up. If everything fell apart, I could get him out of lockup and help him out of town until the heat was off. I didn’t like breaking the law, but I liked dirty justice even less.

Eventually he agreed, and handed over the statue. Not before he snapped it in half right in front of me--which gave me a huge fucking shock--and pulled out a roll of documents. I took them and put them in my coat. I’d put them in my personal hidey hole on top of a nearby building as soon as I could.

Then I allowed him to chat with the neighbor kid and give him a wad of cash to go buy him something to wear. I didn’t hear what they said, but the kid had a funny look on his face before he ran off.

Why was I doing this anyway? Felicia had to have answers. She may have hated me for what happened to her, but if she wanted to screw me over she could’ve done it a hundred different ways already. She knew my name. I didn’t know if it was Urich’s memory that kept me safe, or whatever fleeting affection she still had for me. Either way, I was sure this wasn’t a trap, or she wouldn’t have specified that I bring Wilson with me.

God I hoped I was right. The party at the Black Cat couldn’t come soon enough. Wade Wilson was… distracting to have around. 

* * *


	3. Chapter Three

  


It was cold when we left for the nightclub that night. I went out first while Wade was still getting dressed to make sure the coast was clear, so I didn’t see what he was wearing under his flogger until we got there. I wished I’d waited.

We stood outside for a long minute while the bouncer checked the list for our names. Wilson’s wasn’t on there, but his codename Deadpool was. Felicia knew exactly what Wade’s business had been. Why wasn’t I surprised?

Through the door and down the stairs, the foyer opened up into the club itself. A large area in the center had space for a dance floor and a couple dozen tables, with fancy columns at every corner and fancy red drapes hanging around. At the far end of the place was a stage and a mic, and a dame in a long, flowing white dress singing. There was a band behind her, but they were more in shadow, leaving her in the spotlight.

Off to either side, up some short stairs, were more private booths overlooking the floor and the stage.

What surprised me was when we got into the smoky interior, and the doorman made to take our coats. Wade’s was long, hanging down to his ankles. I’d thought nothing of it at first; the style was common. But underneath?

Underneath, Wade wore a flashy red dress. Thin straps left his arms and shoulders mostly bare. It hugged his waist and flared out at the hip just enough to give it a good shape. Hugged his ass like it was painted on.

When I’d thought he’d been distracting before, I hadn’t known how dead wrong I’d been. _This_ was distracting. He looked god damned fabulous. I felt hot all over suddenly.

“What? You said to get my glad rags on.” Wade spun in front of me, wearing his mask as usual. He knew just how to make the dress twirl, and he knew how to wear those heels. He was already taller than I was, and they made him enormous. He’d obviously been slouching on the way over to hide it.

I dragged him into the nearest corner away from people. “Yeah, to blend in! This is the opposite of blending in!”

“Come on, this is classic stuff. You can be Humphrey Bogart, and I’ll be Mary Astor.”

“What?”

“No, wait. Astor gets turned into the police at the end. Never mind. Can we do a Casablanca instead?”

“Wade!”

“Come on, Parker, show me a good time.” Wade slipped his arm through mine and grinned.

I could see that Felicia wasn't up in her private booth, and she hadn't said anything more than that we should show up tonight. She always knew how to be mysterious, but she'd show her face in her own time. It wouldn’t be her style to invite me without having a good reason.

Until then, I wanted to keep Wade with me and out of trouble. The whole day he'd been restless as a junkie, never happy with one radio station or book, pacing my apartment office back and forth, driving me half batty. Anything that would keep him entertained was welcome. If that meant dancing, then we'd dance. 

I finally recognized the singer up on the little stage, standing in a column of spotlights. She was a talented dish who went by the name Mockingbird. She sure knew how to croon the classics, and Wade knew how to dance to them. 

We were in the middle of serious business, and I kept reminding myself it was a bad idea to get involved with clients, but Wade was making that difficult. He knew how to _dance_. I kept up with him only by grace of my enhanced spider reflexes, because he knew the steps better than I did. 

We twirled, stepped, and he kept flashing bits of his strong legs from the cut up the side of his dress. The black stockings he wore underneath made them look too damn good. 

“Aren't you gonna ask me what's a girl like me doing in a place like this?” Wade said between songs. “Or is that too cliche for you, baby?”

“I don't do pickup lines,” I told him. 

“Too bad. That one always works on me.” Wade ran a finger along my jaw, making something in my chest twitch. I swallowed to try and choke it down.

Then the music slowed. Felicia still hadn't shown up, and I was about to look for her. I wasn't going to slow dance with Wade. He had me all hot and confused, off-kilter. I was not on my game. If we got even more up close and personal, it would only get worse.

“You know, I don’t feel like dancing anymore,” I said.

“Let’s find a nice quiet table, then.” Wade whispered right in my ear. It sent a shiver through me, and it took me a few moments too long to figure out what he’d just said before I agreed.

We sat at a table in the corner with a good view of the main area of the club. It was opposite the side where Felicia’s private booth was, which was fine with me. I would have a good view when she decided to show up.

I wasn’t going to have a drink while on the job, but Wade went ahead and ordered for us both. So I sat and sipped at my glass slowly. Didn’t want to get a thick head for this.

“Let’s talk, Parker. I want to get to know the man behind the PI badge.” Wade had the bottom of his mask tucked over his nose to drink his martini, and he licked at the olive spear in a way that made me wish we were here under other circumstances. “After all, you know so much about me, and I know practically nothing about you.”

I sure couldn’t tell him I was Spider-Man. I didn’t really want to tell the guy anything personal. It wasn’t his business. But I figured I could throw him some kind of bone. We didn’t have anything better to do while we were waiting.

“So, ask me something.” I scanned the crowd, looking for anyone who was paying attention to us, or any criminals I recognized. I saw a local member of the House of Representatives sitting not twenty feet away from us. That was something.

“Well, okay. That was easy. Umm, where are you from?”

“Born and raised in Queens.” I tried to ignore his toe caressing my calf.

Wade sucked the olive into his mouth and chewed slowly. “I’m from Saskatchewan. Don’t know a thing about Queens. Tell me about it. Tell me about growing up there.”

I only paid half attention to what I told him. My mind was more focused on trying to figure out what it was about him that got me all jumbled and twisted in knots. He wasn’t the usual sort of handsome, but there was no denying the kind of shape his body was in. It was odd how he had to hide his scarred face, but didn’t mind the rest of him on display. Like it was with him wearing that dress.

Maybe I was just so jaded with this town that his way of keeping me on my toes was just what I wanted right then. But every time I caught myself staring at the curve of his throat, or the shapely muscles of his arms, I had to remind myself that it was a bad goddamn idea to get involved with clients.

Damn if I didn’t want to, though. 

“Parents still live there?” His toe crept closer towards my knee. I didn’t know what his goal was in playing footsie with me. Trying to catch me off guard, or was he serious?

“Parents are dead.” I wasn’t happy, and my voice showed it.

The foot was immediately gone. “Oh. Okay. Uh… awkward.”

Throwing him a bone had been a bad idea.

I was saved when one of Felicia’s bouncers came by and tapped me on the shoulder. Said she was here and wanted to talk to me. I welcomed the distraction. 

Wade took the opportunity to dance with him instead, whisking him away to do a fast two-step completely out of rhythm with the song. 

I found Felicia at her table. Hadn’t noticed her come in, I’d been so distracted by Wilson’s heavy flirting. As usual, she was wrapped in black silk and white fur, the white cat mask over her face to hide her scars. I felt guilty all over again. Crime Master had done that to her because of me. Still, it seemed she'd risen above it. 

“Sit, Parker.” She never was one to take no for an answer. I sat. 

“What's this about, Miss Hardy?”

“That's all you have to say to me? After all this time?” She swirled the drink in front of her and lifted the solid smask just enough that she could take a sip. “No foreplay? I remember how much you loved foreplay.”

“I wasn't planning on wasting your time.” I did my best to ignore her foot stroking the inside of my leg. Why was that such a popular thing to do to me tonight?

“Good manners are never a waste of time, Parker.” Her voice was as dark and silky as her dress.

“It's been a while, Felicia. I'm glad to see you're not staying cooped up in your apartment, after–”

She waved a hand and cut me off. “I forgot. You never were good with sense or manners. Never mind the manners.”

“Why did you ask me here?”

“I have a problem, and I know you'll be interested in helping me solve it.”

“What does it have to do with my friend over there?”

“You see, Parker.” She reached out and put long, gloved fingers on my hand. “This place is open to a lot of rough customers.”

I knew that already. Told her so.

“Yes, and some of them have influential patrons. Patrons whose bad side I would prefer to avoid, you understand.” She leaned back, draping one lovely arm over the back of the booth. I watched her tease at the leaves of a potted flower arrangement without saying anything. “As much as I’d like to have them removed, I cannot simply deny them access. Don't want to ruffle any feathers, you see.”

I was starting to catch her drift, but she was still being frustratingly obtuse. I didn’t like these word games. Never had, never would. Being Spider-Man made things simpler. See a bad guy, punch a bad guy.

“You want me to remove someone for you.”

She agreed. I questioned her again on what that had to do with Wade Wilson.

She gestured across the club towards Wade, who was no longer dancing with Felicia’s bodyguard. He’d gone off to find someone else to entertain him, and was flirting with a skirt on the other end of the big room by the drink bar. The way he was leaned against the bar while he talked to her irritated me somehow.

“Your friend has an enemy,” Felicia said. “One of those that I have to play nice with. His pawn, however, is a disruptive presence here. Goes by the name The Hammer. He tips badly, his friends are too loud, and he mistreats my waitresses.”

“Mistreats how?”

She showed me a photo. The sight of the bruises made my blood boil. I had to agree that he was an especially bad job. Still, I hated feeling like her clean up boy. I wasn’t a janitor, even if taking photos of unfaithful spouses wasn’t much better.

“I bet he pees in your fountain, too,” I said. I felt used, bitter. My tone reflected it.

Felicia’s eyes flashed behind her mask, and I knew I’d misstepped. “He killed Bobby Dobalina. ...Ah, got your attention, I see.”

“Shit.”

“I wouldn’t call you here for nothing, Parker.”

This was trouble. Every damn thing about this job so far was trouble, and getting worse all the time. “Who’s he working for?”

“Tsk tsk, Peter. I can’t give you all your answers.”

“Dammit Felicia! Just tell me!”

“Keep your voice down. Don’t make a scene. At least not without your other face on.” She flipped her silver tresses over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me you don’t have it.”

“I have it,” I told her. My mask and goggles were tucked away in my coat, and my outfit was sufficiently ubiquitous enough that nobody would distinguish me from any other Joe in the joint.

“Good boy.” She patted me on the cheek. “I know you’ll make Mama proud.”

“What does this guy look like?”

“Oh, I think you’ll know him when you see him. He’ll be here soon, and you’ve dressed your bait up wonderfully. I’m sure he’ll find you.”

_Shit_. She’d played me after all. When was I going to learn?

Felicia turned again to look over her domain. “When they meet, there’s sure to be a scene, which will be the perfect excuse to keep him out of here forever.” She propped the back of her hand under her chin, and I could hear the smirk in her voice. “Oh, look, see? There he is now.”

“Dammit!” I swore again. I didn’t have much time; I had to get in costume and get back out there. I knew where the fancy restrooms were, and headed that way to get away from any potentially curious eyes while I changed. 

I came back to the club to find that Hammer had already found Wade. As I approached, hiding in the shadows on the ceiling, I heard them arguing. The ceilings were high in this place, and I couldn’t hear well over the music, but I saw Hammer flanked by two fellas who looked like hired toughs. I doubted they were just good friends.

Out of his coat sleeve, Hammer had a prosthetic hammer attached to his arm. That would certainly explain the nickname. He poked Wade hard in the chest, and Wade pulled up his dress to grab a gun strapped to his thigh.

That liar! I’d told him no guns!

With the appearance of a gun, screams erupted from the crowd. This was supposed to be a neutral space, and Wade and Hammer were breaking the rules. I looked back to Felicia’s alcove and saw that it was empty. She’d lured us here, and was now making herself scarce. I wanted to blame her, but I couldn’t.

Creeping closer still, and with the band having abandoned their music for the moment, I could hear what was being said. Wade was making comments about Hammer’s prosthetic. Hammer accused Wade of something--that it was his fault? What was he talking about?

Wade accused Hammer of cowardice, though he called him ‘Weasel’. He accused him of only talking shit because he’s got muscle with him backing him up. That accusation seemed to be the last straw for the guy, who lifted his hammer to attack.

That was all the excuse I needed to jump in. I shot out a line of webbing to nab the hammer in the air. “Now now, Miss Hardy runs a nice joint here, is this any way to behave, boys?”

“This isn’t your business, freak! Scram!” Hammer shouted at him. He yanked back on the hammer, which was the moment I found out that he’d had his strength enhanced. Uh oh. Felicia hadn't warned me of _that._

“Spider-Man?” Wade cried. “What the hell are you doing here? Come on, man, let me fight him!”

“Aw, Wilson, you need some two-bit vigilante to fight your battles?” Hammer cackled. “Good idea! If you don’t watch it, you’ll end up like your friend Bobby!”

“You motherfucker! _You_ killed Bobby, didn't you!”

Wade was about to lunge at Hammer, when Hammer’s goons interrupted. They jumped him and started wrestling with him for control of the gun. That was fine, I wanted to handle Hammer myself anyway.

Squaring off against the guy, I began throwing punches, testing his speed and reflexes. I knew if I let loose my full strength I could knock his block off, and I didn’t want to kill the guy, just disable him so I could get him to talk about who hired him.

Slapping a hand onto his arm, Hammer grinned at me, a nasty expression coming through his glasses. The prosthetic hammer made crunchy mechanical noises and actually started to get _bigger_.

“Hey Weas! You compensating for something, asshole?” Wade yelled. He broke free and got enough leverage to punch one of the goons, knocking him back. A loud _BLAM_ sounded as he shot a bullet straight into the guy’s knee.

Hammer yelled and twirled, smashing the hammer into a table. It flew right at me, and I had to flip out of the way or get slammed into the wall. When I got back on my feet, I saw the coward dashing towards the back of the club.

Oh, no. He wasn’t going to escape on _my_ watch.

In a matter of heartbeats I had the two thugs webbed to the floor, ignoring Wilson’s shocked look, and ran after Hammer out the back. I knew my way, thankfully, and guessed that the murderer was headed for the alley.

I would have to be careful of the hammer. Even without enhanced strength and reflexes, a weapon like that could build up a lot of inertia on a swing, and that shit still _hurt_ when it hit. So I’d have to try a mix of distance and up close attacks, which was harder when he was more interested in getting away than fighting me.

The alley door slammed open when I shoved through it. My danger sense told me that Hammer had headed to the right, so I turned to follow. My internal alarm sounded again as a trashcan came flying through the air towards me. I ducked out the way easily, but found out too late that it had been a diversion. An explosion of pain rocked through me, centered on my left shoulder. The bastard had gotten the drop on me, smashed that hammer right into my arm.

That was the last time I’d give him the chance.

“All right, you filthy piece of shit, you’re gonna pay for that,” I snarled, jumping after him. He might have been the beneficiary of experimental science, but I was gifted powers from a spider god. I was on his back in a moment, flattening him to the ground. He grunted as the air left his lungs, and I shot webs all over him, wrapping him up nice and snug like the prey he was.

Angry as hell, I stepped onto his elbow. He screamed, and I pressed just a little harder. “Let’s see you hurt anyone with this anymore.” I bent and grabbed his prosthetic hammer, bending the pole in half and twisting it until the metal gave way. It must’ve been attached to his nerves, because he let out a blood curdling scream.

With the broken piece in my hands, I crushed it into a ball, making it useless to him. This was painful on my dislocated shoulder, but I didn’t care. The pain gave me focus. And I’d felt worse before. Nothing I’d felt so far could match the pounding I took from Sandman a few years earlier.

Gritting my teeth and ignoring the pain, I hauled Hammer over my shoulder and climbed with him up to the roof. I was going to get answers out of the bastard, whether he liked it or not. I was done with this bullshit game, and I didn't care if I had to bruise every last nerve he had. He was going to talk. 

Reaching the top, I tossed him over the edge, and he groaned in pain. I wouldn’t kill him, but from everything I knew about him now, he deserved getting roughed up a bit.

I grabbed him by the collar and tossed him up onto the roof tiles. “All right, scumbag. I hate brunos and button men, and seems to me like you’re both. So I wanna hear who hired you to blip off Robert Dobalina, or you’re gonna be in a world of hurt.” I leaned closer, got right in his face. “Maybe I'll put the hurt on you anyway.”

It was a lie, but it's what I felt like anyway.

Hammer’s response was to spit right in my face. His nasty brown saliva--bastard must've been a chewer--clung to my goggles. “Fuck off! I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’!”

I wiped the gunk off my face and glared at him, even if he wouldn’t see it. Body language counted for enough. “All right, that’s how you wanna roll, then that’s how we’ll roll.” I backhanded the bastard across the face. His glasses cut into his nose before they went flying, clattering across the roof. Probably broken.

I'd seen the photos. I'd seen what he’d done to Bobby. He deserved this.

After a few more hard smacks, he turned his head and spat blood off to the side. “You think you’re tough? Gonna put the screws on me? You’re just some geek in a mask.”

I shook him. “Oh yeah? This geek is gonna make you regret it if you don’t tell me what I want to know!”

My danger sense went off, and I turned to see Wade coming up the fire escape, gun trained on both me and Hammer. Fury bristled over his entire frame, and he managed to look menacing even in that dress.

“Let me kill him, Spider-Man,” he said. “He was my friend. He was _Bobby’s_ friend. And you know what he did to him?!”

My shoulder was burning, giving me a harder edge than usual, but I didn’t need to be fighting my own client. Even if he didn’t know he was my client. “I know, Wilson,” I said, making my voice rougher to disguise it. “But I'm not gonna let you kill him.”

“Ha!” Hammer snorted, still a piece of shit even with a swollen eye and blood running down his lips. “Don't have the stomach for it, eh?”

Oh, I'd show him what I had the stomach for.

I let him have it. I let out every frustration I had on his face, but not hard enough to knock him out. Just wanted to soften the bastard up. 

“Had enough, Hammer?” I snarled at him. “Or should I let Wilson have you?”

Wade was looking like he'd enjoyed the show. Looking impressed, but still angry. I’d started this gig angry, too, and years of being witness to the most awful things that humanity had to offer had only hardened something in me. Turned me into this.

For what Crime Master had done to Felicia, I’d almost killed him. Didn’t regret it a damn bit. The world was a hard, cold place, with no room for the idealism that my aunt tried to teach me. Men like Hammer deserved what they got.

Hammer gurgled and coughed. He squinted at me through swollen eyelids and clotting blood. Still looked better than what was left of Bobby. “Okay! Hck-- _okay!_ ”

“ _Who hired you?_ ” I demanded again, shaking him by the collar.

“Adsit,” Hammer croaked. “Scott Adsit.”

“Adsit?! A goddamn _pencil pusher??_ ” Wade was shrieking. He was _mad_ , madder than I’d yet seen him.

Hammer laughed, not a great sound. I wanted to make him stop. “Yeah, a pencil pusher who’s big stuff at the CIA now. Wants to clean up loose ends. You and Bobby? That fuckin’ paperwork ya got? Loose ends.”

“Fuck!” Wade stormed forward, made like he was gonna finish Hammer off. 

“No. We’ll let the police take care of him.” I grabbed him by the arm. 

Hammer didn’t like the sound of that. With all I’d done to him already, his eyes got all wide. I could smell the fear on him, thick like too much bad cologne. “No!” he shouted. “They throw me in the cooler, and I'm a dead man in there! Adsit will get to me!”

“Boo fucking hoo,” I said. “You made your bed, you can damn well lie in it.” It wasn’t my job to save scumbags from their own problems.

Not for free, anyway. Not when they’d done the things Hammer had done.

“Oooh, that's cold,” Wade said, crossing his arms and smirking. “I like it.”

I had to fix my shoulder. Now that the heat of the fight was over, it was starting to really hurt. I stuck my hand and wrist to a nearby wall with webbing and twisted, yanking the joint back in place. I hurt all over, but I healed fast. My injuries would be gone tomorrow.

“Damn, you are one tough son of a bitch,” Wade said. “Didn’t even scream or nothin’.”

“Go back to the club,” I said bitterly. “I'm taking him in.” I grabbed Hammer again and slung him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes

Wade looked like he was going to protest. I glared him down, not giving him an option. His little pea shooter wouldn’t help him fight me. Eventually he got the picture, holding his hands up defensively. “Okay, okay, you're the boss! I’ve got to go check on my date, anyway.”

I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

“A date?”

“Mm-hm, a real sexy brunette.” he sighed. Seemed like his mood had shifted from rage to lust pretty quick. He was delusional if he thought that gal he’d been talking to earlier would still--

“A handsome private dick named Parker,” he continued. Sounding like he was head over fucking heels.

It took me a few moments longer to respond than I liked. I was still running on adrenaline from the fight, but my mind was clearing, and I remembered the way he danced, the way his dress flashed in the light of the club, the way his skin felt when he held onto me, the way he’d been playing footsie with me.

Parker, you’re in for it now.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, more careful with disguising my voice than I’d been in my life. “Good luck with that. I know Parker, he’s got some issues.”

Wade laughed. “Says the guy in a mask beating up crooks on a rooftop.”

If only he knew. I sure wasn’t going to tell him.

I hauled Hammer to the nearest police station, told them to talk to Captain Stacy about him. I made tracks before they could ask me about how beat up the guy was, though they probably wouldn’t. It was a rough town.

When I got back to the club, I climbed in through Felicia’s balcony. She’d handed me her dirty laundry to take care of, so she could put up with a little trespassing on my part.

Slipping through the door, which was already cracked open as if in invitation, I passed between her curtains and saw her sitting at her vanity in a sheer robe. It was left open, and even if it weren’t, the fabric did little to hide the black lace she wore underneath.

The mask, however, did everything to hide her face.

“Parker,” she said casually.

“It’s done, Felicia,” I said, letting myself sound angry. I pulled my mask off and tried to comb my hair a little with my fingers.

“Mm.” She stood up and swayed her way over to me. “Good boy.”

My jaw clenched. I said nothing. Felt one of her cats crawling around my ankles.

“Don’t be so angry, I’ve done you a favor. You got your killer, and you got a name, I assume?” She put a hand on my chest.

“Adsit.”

“Wonderful.” Her voice was like a purr, and her fingers moved to the buttons of my vest, dancing over them like she had a right to. “I’m going to do you another favor.”

I stopped her, snapping my hand up to grab her wrist. “ _What_ favor?” I couldn’t keep the words from sounding like a growl. She kept getting in my space tonight, and I was sick of it.

“You need an alibi, sweet thing. Your jacket has roof tar on it, and you look like a mess. Wouldn’t want Wilson to get any ideas, now, would you?”

The dame had a point. Now that she mentioned it, I saw how awful my suit looked after all the scuffling. I guessed I hadn’t been as careful about that as I’d wanted to be. The biggest danger of this job wasn’t the cuts, the bruises, or the gunshot wounds; it was the dry cleaning bill.

When I went back downstairs to the club, escorted by her angry bodyguard, it was with my jacket gone, and my collar and vest undone. My hair hadn’t needed any extra ruffling.

I found Wade waiting impatiently by the exit, wearing his full coat again. He gave me a significant look, and then smirked. “Ain’t got a lady friend, you say?”

“Let’s get out of here,” I snapped. I didn’t want to talk about it.

Wade hissed in a breath. “Ooo, not anymore I take it, eh?”

I didn’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t about to tell him the truth. That was personal. That was _complicated_. The last thing I needed to do was rehash an old complicated while a new complicated was staring me in the face.

The whole cab ride back to my place was uncomfortable. I couldn’t stop thinking about Wade and how he’d looked fighting in that dress. He’d looked _damn_ good, and I was still feeling edgy and antsy after the night I’d had, which was doing a number on my frame of mind. I had too much energy to burn, and with Wade around I couldn’t run off and do a patrol as Spider-Man.

Wade wasn’t a help. His mouth was going a mile a minute, talking about nonsense. It made it impossible for me to get my mind on something else.

I was still worked up when I unlocked my door and waved Wade in ahead of me. I locked up behind me, and when I turned around he’d shucked his overcoat. I saw the dress again. Except now, in good light indoors and not up on a rooftop, I could see the shape it was in.

The dress was ripped across the front, showing off more of his legs, and ripped across the chest, giving me a tantalizing look at a stiff nipple.

With the way I was feeling, I couldn’t help but stare. And Wade couldn’t help but notice.

“Like what you see?” he said, sliding back to sit on my desk.

I made a dumb noise.

Wade arched his back a little and lifted a knee, stroking his own calf with his foot. “What’s the matter, dick? Black Cat got your tongue?”

I looked up at him, marveling at the mass of muscle and heat he possessed. My hands twitched and I wanted to put them on him so bad. “Not this time, she didn’t.”

He smoothed a hand down the front of his dress, pushing it down his thigh, which drew attention to the bulge at his crotch. “You wanna spend some time with me instead, then? You’ve got a real nice, strong desk here, you know.”

Not a good idea, but right then I didn’t care. I needed to work off that energy, and he’d been teasing me and flirting all evening. All day, even.

I didn’t even have to say anything; we were already on the same page. I just stepped forward and shoved everything off the desk all at once. It made a lot of noise, and a lot of mess. I didn’t care if I had to clean it up later. I wanted to make a show of it.

Wade lifted his mask over his nose and grinned at me. “Yeah, _now_ we’re talkin’.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” I pressed between his knees and grabbed his face to plant one right on the kisser. He yanked me down on top of him.

We didn’t break my desk, but we did break a lamp in my bedroom after we decided to move our activities there. It was already starting to get light outside by the time we’d worn each other out.

Never had a better night of sex in my life.

——


	4. Chapter Four

  


I slept until afternoon. I could tell it was afternoon because my windows faced west, and I had sunlight glaring me in the face when I opened my eyes.

Wade was gone. All that was left of his presence in bed was rumpled sheets and a pillow that’d been knocked on the floor. I didn’t smell breakfast, and I didn’t hear any noises that weren’t normal noises for my building for that time of day.

I rolled out of bed and pulled on my jockeys and my night robe. Barefoot, I explored my apartment, then my office. He was completely gone.

“Fuck, Wilson, you’re going after Adsit, aren’t you?” My fist left a mark on the wall where I punched it. Pretty sure I’d wrecked any chance of getting my deposit back long before then, so I didn’t care.

Of course Wade would leave to find the man who’d had him on a hit list. Who’d had his friend killed. Revenge was one of the oldest stories in the book. It was a raw feeling, the kind that got hold of you and got into your veins until you burned with it. The feeling that had roared through me years ago when I’d seen Vulture with his hand on my aunt’s throat. When I’d met up with Crime Master and I’d thought that he’d killed Felicia. When I’d only barely stopped myself from ripping that _worm_ Octavius to pieces for what he’d done to Robbie, to that poor girl.

I needed to let go of that right then. I had to find Wade. To find Wade, I’d have to find Adsit. To do that, I had to talk to Stacy. He knew all the details of this business, and he would’ve had time to question Hammer by now.

It was getting cloudy as the day got closer to evening, and I felt like it suited my mood. It would probably rain, too, which would just about top it off perfectly.

When I got to the precinct and asked for Stacy at the desk, Miss Cooper ushered me right into his office without having to wait. It seemed like he’d been waiting for me. Stepping into his office, from the look on his face and the set of his shoulders he didn’t look happy about it, either.

“Hammer was found hanged in his cell this morning.”

Shit.

“Look, I’m sorry you lost your suspect and all, but Wilson is loose and he’s probably after Hammer’s boss. Scott Adsit, works for the CIA. Don’t know what his job description is, but--”

Stacy cut me off. “Yeah, kid, I know all about him. Hammer talked. He was pretty scared when your _buddy_ Spider-Man dumped him off all beat up.”

He tried not to give me a disapproving look, but it wasn’t working so well. I couldn’t worry about that right then. I had worse problems than Stacy’s opinion of my methods.

“Now I got I.A. all up my ass.”

I slapped my hands down on the edge of his desk. “Stacy, come on. I _have_ to find Wilson _now_. He’s out for blood. Tell me how to find Adsit before it’s too late.”

He gave me an address. I ran out of there without taking time for a thank you. The location was too far away, and I had no idea what sort of head start Wade had on me. The only way I could catch up to him was if I changed into costume and swung across the city faster than I ever had before.

By the time I got to Adsit’s building, my arms, shoulders, and abs were burning from the effort. It was also raining, water dripping off my hat and weighing down my coat. At least the oiled leather kept me dry.

Captain Stacy had given me specifics on where to find Adsit’s office. Still, I was going to have to be careful. This was the CIA, and they had all sorts of security.

Security which Wilson had already taken care of, apparently. Unconscious bodies in uniform littered the ground outside the building, and smoke poured out of an upper story from a missing wall. Chunks of that wall were scattered on the ground below. An explosion, then.

The fella was more dangerous than I’d thought. Especially when he was pissed off. Should’ve taken the risk he posed more seriously; I didn’t know if I was going to be in time. Still, if he’d had to go on foot across the whole city, and if he’d had to collect the weapons and ordinance it would’ve taken him to create _that big a hole_ in the side of the building, that would have eaten into his lead on me quite a bit.

Please let me be on time. Adsit sounded like a scumbag, but Stacy wanted him _alive_. He had to come in alive to pay for his crimes in front of the world.

Rain came down harder, the noise drowning out the sounds of the city, the sirens, people screaming and running from the building. They were evacuating. Good, they damn well better. I didn’t want any collateral damage here because I’d failed to contain a dangerous man.

I climbed the outside wall, praying that my fingers would stay stuck on the wet stone, and followed both my danger sense and my ears. Hoping it would lead me the right way, like it had so many times before.

Success: I heard Wilson yelling, and another voice responding, quieter. That must be Adsit.

Just as I got to the window, and saw Wilson’s silhouette through the other side, I heard a gun blast.

“NO!” I shouldered my way through the window. Glass cut into my sleeves, scattered all over the carpet. A gust of wind followed, blowing the curtains around and bringing a spattering of rain in after me. A little water in the carpet would be the least of the messes made in that building that night.

Wilson, wearing his mask as well as a matching red and black combat uniform, with swords on his back, pistols strapped to him in several places, and full pouches slung around his hips, turned to glare at me.

Well. That was a new look for him. Something told me that _these_ , and not the dress he’d worn the night before, were his real glad rags.

A pudgy, balding man lay on the floor, face twisted in fear. He was sobbing and clutching at his knee. Well, a big bloody hole where his knee _used_ to be.

“Stay out of this, Parker,” Wilson snarled, glaring at me over his shoulder.

Hearing my name from him while I was fully suited up shook me hard. He’d given no clue at all that he knew who I was before then. “How did--?”

“You take me for a dope?” He turned his attention back to Adsit, and started stalking across the floor towards him.

Adsit backed away across the floor, as well as he could push himself with one good leg. He was reaching, straining for something under his desk chair.

“I ain’t one,” Wilson finished. He squeezed off another warning round and Adsit yelped, pulling his hand back towards himself.

“So you try to play _me_ for a sap, just like Felicia did?” I could attack him, but I didn’t want to. He’d heal, and he’d keep trying to come for Adsit. I could drag him to the cops, but I didn’t blame him for wanting to pop the guy.

“No, no it ain’t like that,” he said. I saw his fingers tighten around the gun. “He had my entire squad bumped off, Parker. _My entire squad_. Good men! Fighting for their goddamn country!”

I held up my hands. “Look, Wilson.”

Adsit started shouting, and Wilson kicked him. “Shut up!”

It looked like he was gonna shoot Adsit right in the face this time. “Wade!”

That got his attention, distracted him just long enough for me to launch towards him. His gun went off again when I grabbed him, shot going wild and hitting a glass on the desk.

Like the coward he was, Adsit shuffled fully behind the desk to hide.

Wilson wasn’t as strong as I was, but he was pretty damn strong, and I didn’t really want to hurt him. I’d fought plenty of regular joes before, and always pulled my punches. Except Wilson wasn’t one of them. He healed, and he knew how to fight like a damn bear.

Rain kept pouring outside and blowing in the window while Wilson and I fought. He dropped his gun and went for his swords, instead. As I evaded his blades, and he tried to roll with the smacks I gave him, we destroyed the furniture in the office piece by piece.

My coat didn’t survive his swords intact, but I used the severed ends of the fabric to yank his weapons from him. I twisted him around, got a grip on his wrist and pinned him on the floor under me. I had to get him to see reason. “Wade, please. Let’s get him to the cops, let them dig up his dirty laundry, let them—!”

“So he can squirm out of it? Make a deal? Oh no. No, _Parker_ , this fucker has to pay for what he’s done. He had my squad hunted down like dogs! They had families, children! All because they knew too damn much!”

He bucked, tried to shove me off. I clung harder, trying to find the right balance of strength that would restrain him without breaking him in half. I didn’t want to do that to the guy. Didn’t want to hurt him. I’d just fucked him, for Christ’s sake.

“Doesn’t mean he should die, Wilson!”

I remembered another time, years ago. Gun in my hand, still hot from blowing holes in the bastard who’d killed my uncle. My aunt yelling at me. Didn’t know who I was, told me she didn’t want to live in a world where people killed each other like animals.

I’d tried to follow her example, but sometimes it didn’t feel right. Others were dead because of me. Kravinoff, Osborn. Even if it was indirectly, it was still because of me, and at the end of the day I had no regrets. Because of me, they weren’t around to kill anyone else. I could live with that.

Adsit, though, he wasn’t the same kind of monster. He held the leashes. He needed to be kept alive, so that the system could _work_. There were things he knew, crimes committed by other people who he could help apprehend.

“An eye for an eye, Parker!”

Wilson slammed his elbow into my gut and got enough wiggle room to retrieve his gun from the floor. The weapon now in his right hand, he whipped his arm around and smashed the butt end of it into my goggles, smashing the right-hand lens and making me see stars. I swore. He took his chance and threw me off.

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Wilson. We’ll get him to the police, they’ll put him on trial.” Blood trickled down my cheek under my mask. He’d cut me.

From the floor, Adsit scoffed. “I’m still gonna make sure they put you away for life, freak! Both of you! You don’t know who you’re messing with. Security is on their way _right now_ , and they’re gonna--”

“Can it, you stupid--” But I was too late. Adsit, the moron, had gotten me to take my attention off Wilson, and signed his own death warrant.

Wilson pulled the trigger. A wound blossomed on Adsit’s throat, blood spurting as his carotid was severed.

“Fuck!” I pushed past Wilson and got on the floor next to Adsit, putting my glove against his throat to try and stop the bleeding. I heard another window break when Wilson made his exit, but I had to at least _try_ to save Adsit. Even if that meant Wilson got away.

It was no use. Adsit was dead within a minute, gurgling at me and clawing at my costume before he lost strength completely and went limp. His blood was on my hands and my clothes, and it looked like I’d killed him. Again, I’d get caught hovering over a dead body, like it’d been with Chameleon disguised as Jameson at the Bugle.

There was no sign of Wilson. A trail of bloody footsteps led to the broken window. On the sidewalk below, more bloodstains disappeared in the rain as I looked for him.

I blocked the door with webbing, laying it on black and thick. That oughta stop anyone from coming in before I was done searching Adsit’s files. I had to find enough evidence to bring to Stacy to show him the guy was dirty, and anything that he might have on any of his cronies. If he had them.

Grabbing whatever I could, I wrapped it up and tucked it into my vest and swung out of there just in time to avoid being seen by the security reinforcements Adsit called earlier. They hadn’t been as close to getting there as he’d thought. Poor, corrupt bastard.

Not that I was sympathetic.

Covered in blood as I was, I couldn’t go into the police station through the front door. Crossing the city as the rain started to fade away to nothing, I kept out of sight. Reaching the station, I knocked on Stacy’s window. He was holding a gun, but let me in.

“There’d better be a good explanation for this,” he said. He stashed his gun in the holster under his arm. Had he been expecting trouble? I didn’t blame him.

“Adsit’s dead. I wasn’t in time to stop the killer.”

Stacy sighed, shook his head. He looked as tired as I felt. “Was it Wilson?”

I’d expected the question, but I still hadn’t thought of exactly how I wanted to answer it. I could give Wade up. He’d murdered a man in cold blood. An unarmed man.

An unarmed man who’d been responsible for the deaths of plenty of innocents. Soldiers and civilians alike. He would’ve gotten the death penalty anyway, unless he managed to wiggle out of it.

_You killed an unarmed man!_

My aunt’s voice screamed at me in my memory. She still didn’t know I was Spider-Man. Hadn’t known it had been her nephew standing there, shooting the Vulture dead. Didn’t know about everything I’d done since then.

“The mugg was wearing a mask. I didn’t see his face. He escaped when I tried to save Adsit.”

A lie of omission was still a lie, but I’d given Stacy all the truth that mattered. Adsit knew the risks of working outside the law. He got to deal with guys like me, guys like Wilson, also working outside the law. That’s what it always came back to in the city. Maybe other places, things didn’t get so dark and raw, but this was the reality we had to live with.

Stacy wasn’t happy about it, but the police had their work to do, and I’d leave them to it. If there was any chance they’d find evidence against Wilson, they’d find it and it would be Wilson’s problem.

I got home, and my place was still empty as it had been earlier that afternoon. It had been annoying at the time, but in the sudden absence of Wade’s chinning about nothing, it felt more empty than it ever had.

I took a long shower, scrubbing every bit of me, soaked my hands in peroxide to get the blood stains out, and left my costume in the tub full of water.

I needed a drink, needed some air to clear my head. Plus, there wasn’t anything to eat in my kitchen. Wade had a bottomless stomach, it seemed like. Sure he’d paid for some food, but he’d still cleaned out my cupboards.

Grabbing some cash out of my lock box, I headed out, aiming to stop at the corner store a couple of blocks away and buy what I needed. Maybe get a hot sandwich from Joe’s. I was exhausted from my hard swinging around earlier, and didn’t want to cook anything.

It had gotten cold after the rain, and fog had rolled into the city. Lucky thing I knew the way, but even with my powers and my danger sense, it still gave me the heebie jeebies.

As I got close to a street lamp, a figure stepped out of the darkness into the light spilling from it and shining on the sidewalk. It was Wade, wearing his hat, his coat collar popped up around his neck.

My heart thudded out of step once, and I frowned at him.

“Heya, Parker.”

I approached him. My hands were in my pockets, just like his were, and I left them there. “You killed a man.”

“I’ve killed lots of men,” he said. “They were all bad men.”

“I know.”

I stared at him. He stared right back at me. He lifted his mask, pulled me in, and I curled my fingers in his coat, kissing him. His mouth tasted good. Like cinnamon and whiskey. Even after everything, even after fighting him, I still wanted him.

He broke apart from me. “This is goodbye, you know.”

“You don’t have to leave,” I said. It was an impulse. I didn’t even think about it. “The cops don’t know you killed Adsit.”

“Yeah, they know,” he shrugged. “Even if they can’t prove it. Hammer, they could let go of. He turned into a two bit loser. Adsit, though, he’s high profile. They ain’t gonna let go of that one, and they ain’t gonna ignore what I done just because it’s circumstantial.”

“Wait a minute. You killed Hammer? When did--”

Wade put a finger on my lips and smiled. He leaned down to kiss me again. “Goodbye, Pete.”

He slipped away and out of the light from the street lamp, disappearing into the dark of the fog that blanketed New York City. Out of my life as quickly as he’d entered it.

I let out a long breath, feeling a shiver run through me from the cold. Hunching my shoulders, I shoved my hands back into my pockets and continued on my way. The world went on, and I had to do the same.

When would I learn not to get personal with clients?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so mentally exhausted right now from all my writing in the last month I'm just gonna go take a nap now. @n@
> 
> I hope you guys liked this!!! I'm so happy with how it turned out!


End file.
